


Secret Love, Sealed Lips

by Chamelaucium



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cultural Differences, M/M, Misunderstandings, Shire AU, could be considered a, fantasies and daydreaming, rings are just trouble, that one where everyone ships it and thorin doesn't have a clue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1694021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chamelaucium/pseuds/Chamelaucium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> ‘Married?’ he said quietly, trying to keep breathing.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>‘Well, Bilbo dear, you <strong>do</strong> have a ring on your finger. We assumed you were just waiting for things to settle down before you brought her home. Or him, I suppose,’ his aunt replied. </em></p><p> </p><p>Before Bilbo leaves Erebor for good, Thorin Oakenshield presents him with a ring - a token of his friendship and regard, nothing more.</p><p>Unfortunately, that's not how the rest of Middle-earth sees it and if Bilbo indulges, well; he doubts he'll be seeing Thorin again for a long time, if ever. Their parting was hardly auspicious.</p><p>But Bilbo never thought that Thorin would <em>truly</em> come and visit him in the Shire, and now he's got to keep the knowledge of their supposed marriage a secret from him. The other hobbits don't really make that very easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And With this Ring...

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Secret Love, Sealed Lips~爱你在心口难开~](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1820863) by [hana0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hana0/pseuds/hana0)



> I think I should just say: _I don't know what I've written._ I needed to write some fluff and this happened so... yes. Ahem. Please don't kill me. I just needed a musinderstanding-filled Shire AU, because the fandom can never have too many of those!
> 
> Also, please forgive that honest to god _awful_ title. I can't think of titles so... please dont hate me. I hope you enjoy the story anyway! :3 :3

In the morning sun, the ring with its deep blue sapphire looked so harmless. Charming, yes; beautiful, yes; but never would Bilbo Baggins have dreamt what it would have led to. If he had, he’d have thrown it right back in the dwarf’s face, rather than accept the gift he knew only to be given in friendship, no matter how much more he might _wish_ it meant.

Perhaps he should have guessed when he and Gandalf stayed with Thranduil for a few days on their way back to the Shire, after a heart-wrenching goodbye to those foolish, loveable dwarves he’d grown so fond of. Bilbo had been utterly morose, barely able to summon even a smile for his most gracious host, when Thranduil had given him a strange look.

‘There weren’t any females in your company, Master Baggins?’ he’d asked and Bilbo had looked at him wide-eyed.

‘Certainly not!’ he’d replied. ‘I think I’d know.’ And his eyes had gone soft as he thought about each of his dear friends and how laughable the idea that one of them was secretly a woman was. He hadn’t noticed Thranduil’s sudden look of understanding and the sly look he’d shared with Gandalf.

Then at Beorn’s, the kindly old shape shifter had been all too glad to ply him with extra helpings of honey and bread, for the “little one”; aside from being mildly miffed at being called “little” – it was only half a step up from “bunny”, and hadn’t that been mortifying! – Bilbo hardly knew what to make of his excessive generosity but make the best of it, and make the best of it he certainly did. He could hardly move during their rest at Beorn’s, he ate so much; as he slept it all off, he didn’t notice the misty eyed look Beorn had given him as he told Gandalf all about his childhood in the mountains, which the wizard listened to with a smile on his face and a knowing look.

Bilbo did begin to get suspicious when at Rivendell, Elrond’s first word to him, after the initial greetings, was ‘Congratulations!’

‘Thank you?’ Bilbo had replied, half a question. ‘We were very lucky, but we managed it.’

‘So I see,’ Elrond had smiled widely. ‘You must let us celebrate.’

Bilbo couldn’t understand why the elves were so keen to commemorate and celebrate the dwarves’ victory in reclaiming their homeland, but he let it slide. The other races were all so much more complicated than hobbits; if their subtle politics went over his head then it was far from his fault he could make neither head nor tail of things.

Finally he reached home and, despite having to buy most of his furniture back, he was once more settled back into his comfy smial with his stocked larder and plentiful supply of cotton handkerchiefs. Life was as it should be: quiet, calm and uncomplicated.

Actually, to his dismay, he found that life very much _was_ complicated and he spent many of his days in a state of baffled bewilderment. He’d expected the other hobbits’ treatment of him to have changed, and it had; but not in the way he’d expected.

***

He sat in his garden smoking a pipe, as he was wont to do these days, when old Mr Horwood called out to him as he passed. He sat up sharply, interrupted from his day-dreaming (and if those imaginings had been full of a certain pair of blue eyes and stern face, then it was strictly his own business) and returned the greeting.

‘I ‘spect things’ll be changing roun’ here pretty soon, aye,’ the old gaffer called up, a grin on his face as he looked up at Bilbo. Bilbo wasn’t entirely sure to what he was referring but he had heard there’d been a new mayor elected during his year away; assuming this was the cause of the anticipated change, he chuckled.

‘And for the best, I hope!’ he returned, puffing on his pipe.

Mr Horwood gave an old raspy laugh as he set off again. ‘Oh, just you wait an’ see, Mr Baggins! Things’ll ne’er be the same again!’ And then he was gone, and Bilbo was left only a little confused.

Was the new mayor really that bad? Shrugging, he returned to his pipe and his daydreams until the sun went down and he returned inside, mourning the quiet of his smial and missing the days when he’d yearned for quiet, because that meant he was surrounded by his friends, and the one dwarf he wished he’d had the courage to confront earlier. Perhaps if he’d spoken sooner, things would have been much different… but it was no use crying over spilt milk, his mother had always said, and there was nowt to be done about it now.

The next day was market day and Bilbo spent a long time sampling the wares on offer; he may have run off with hardly a second thought before, but now he was back, Bilbo was definitely a Baggins and let it never be said that a Baggins took decisions lightly. He was stumped as to which cheese to buy; he’d always preferred the softer, creamier cheeses but months on the road did wonders for developing one’s taste for hard cheeses. Eventually he settled upon the hard cheese – and certainly not at all because just the smell brought back memories of the journey, and one dwarf in particular – but once he’d made his decision Bilbo was left feeling nearly as confused as before when the stall keeper gave him a winning smile.

‘I’m sure this cheese will be just perfect, Mr Bilbo,’ she’d said cheerfully.

‘Yes, yes it is, thank you,’ he offered uncertainly. She glanced around quickly before leaning in closer to Bilbo.

‘I think you should know, sir, the whole town is completely behind you and we all think you’ve made the perfect choice!’

‘Thank you…’ Bilbo had trailed off. It was just cheese, surely? Or maybe she was referring to his new drapes. He’d changed them from the old gnatty floral pattern to ones of heavy green velvet, the colour of leaves in the evening. _That_ must be what the girl was referring to; although it was still a rather disconcerting thought that the colour of his drapes warranted such interest from the townsfolk.

 _Ah well,_ he thought _. We can’t **all** go off on adventures._

Still, Bilbo couldn’t help but feel there was something else going on, something else he wasn’t completely aware of. It was rather agitating and more than once he found himself toying with the ring on his finger. One such occasion was at his aunt Mirabella’s smial for afternoon tea, three weeks after he’d got back; all his younger female cousins had been giggling together about something and during the lull in conversation he’d remembered the way the dwarves had all mothered one another at night as they re-braided their brothers’ hair, and he found himself unconsciously twisting it on his finger.

‘It takes a bit of getting used to, doesn’t it?’ his uncle had broken into his thoughts.

‘Yes,’ Bilbo admitted. ‘Yes, it really does.’ Sometimes he forgot that he was a respectable hobbit once more, not able to just drop his duties and go running off again.

‘Don’t worry, lad,’ his uncle had boomed, chuckling as he slapped Bilbo on the back. ‘It’s all worth it in the end, believe you me!’ And after giving Bilbo a rather unnecessarily sly wink which Bilbo couldn’t fathom the meaning of, he’d promptly offered him some more cake.

It was especially embarrassing when his old great-aunt brought out old knitting patterns for – _baby clothes? –_ and asked him which sort he liked best. He’d stutteringly chosen one, because why would anyone care about his opinion on baby clothes? His great-aunt had smiled toothlessly then.

‘Aha. So you think it’s a girl?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Your child. It’s a girl?’

‘My child?’ Bilbo echoed, feeling faint.

‘Well, you’re married now so I assume you’ve a little one on the way!’ Great-aunt Dora said sharply, sounding just as confused as Bilbo felt.

Oh _. Oh **.**_ They thought – thought that –

Bilbo very nearly did faint right there and then. They thought he was _married!_

‘Married?’ he said quietly, trying to keep breathing.

‘Well, Bilbo dear, you _do_ have a ring on your finger. We assumed you were just waiting for things to settle down before you brought her home. Or him, I suppose,’ his aunt replied.

The blasted ring. Every night, Bilbo took it off carefully and stared at it for the longest time, imagining he could see Thorin in the deep blue of Durin sapphire; that the ornate mithril band would show a different reflection than his own face; that the ring on his finger _truly_ meant what he wished it did. And every night he’d set it on the bedside table before blowing out the candle, knowing his longing was futile and silly and he should just forget.

And now here he was, the whole of the Shire absolutely certain that Bilbo Baggins had found himself a spouse while on his travels! It made him want to bury himself in his smial for the embarrassment of it. How could he tell them that they’d got it all wrong? At least it explained Elrond, Beorn’s and Thranduil’s reactions. Yavanna, he’d never live this down.

His aunts and uncle were looking at him expectantly and he cleared his throat, taking a sip of tea to stall for time.

‘I, er,’ he began. ‘You see, I…’ He looked again at the sapphire of Durin, in its mithril band worth more than the entirety of Hobbiton. The sapphire was the same colour as Thorin’s eyes. ‘We, um, well, he’s very busy, you see…’ _What was he saying?!_ Bilbo knew it was wrong, but the likelihood of him ever seeing Thorin Oakenshield again was very slim and… what Thorin didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

His aunt Mirabella squealed a little in delight. ‘Oh Bilbo, I knew it! Who is he? What’s he like?’ She looked so excited by the prospect of his husband (oh _Yavanna,_ the thought of Thorin as his husband gave him butterflies like nothing else) that he felt a smidgen of guilt; he ignored it in favour of chasing his daydream. The daydream which had often haunted him at night, too.

‘Well, he’s, um…’ Bilbo had told them all of his adventure and his Took relations were particularly accepting of it, and they least of all would doubt him. ‘You know I travelled with dwarves? I, uh, married… their leader. And King. Thorin Oakenshield.’ Just saying the words aloud made him red with embarrassment which thankfully Mirabella took only for modesty and she squeaked again.

‘A _King?!_ Oh, _Bilbo!’_ She had tears in her eyes and he found himself on the receiving end of a bone-crushing hug that would have put even the dwarves’ to shame. ‘Was it _romantic?’_

***

_In the aftermath of the battle, as the dwarf king lay dying, with his last breaths he summoned his hobbit love to him. With weak movements he placed a ring from his own hand onto Bilbo’s finger, his eyes full of regret, sorrow and love._

_‘I am not much longer for the world, my heart,’ he’d whispered, voice shallow and ragged. The hobbit had tried to shush him but the dwarf had carried on. ‘I would that you always have something of me, that all my race know you as dwarf-friend-‘_

_The hobbit silenced him with a kiss, the ring nearly falling from his finger. ‘You great, stupid oaf,’ he’d murmured lovingly. ‘You don’t think I’d let you die on me, so soon after marrying me?’ He’d tried to laugh, the sound catching in his throat, but it was enough; the light came back to the dwarf’s eyes and he was filled with a determination to recover for his little hobbit love –_

Or so the story went. In fact, there were a multitude of stories going round, as it got exaggerated and changed with each telling. Other accounts said that it was the hobbit who’d proposed to the dwarf as a last-ditch attempt to wake him from his sleep after the battle, and it was a testament to their love that the dwarf awoke.

Another story said that it was before the battle, an attempt to stave off the curse of the dwarf’s line (Bilbo wasn’t particularly fond of this retelling, remembering the feel of only empty air beneath his feet and the burn of Thorin’s gold-sick gaze, and was quick to correct those labouring under this impression).

Now it was supposedly common knowledge that Bilbo Baggins was technically no longer Mr Baggins, Bilbo found himself even more at the mercy of his neighbours and the other townsfolk, all pestering him about when he’d be bringing his dwarf love home with him. Bilbo became very good at stalling - Thorin was a king, after all, and could hardly be expected to leave his mountain so soon after reclaiming it.

When those few sceptics responded to this by asking why Bilbo had left, Bilbo raised his nose, arched an eyebrow, and inquired how _they’d_ like living in a mountain, thank you very much, and stalked off. It sufficed.

And Bilbo found his days passed much more pleasantly now that he could spend them remembering Thorin and describing him to his family and friends.

_He’s taller than me, by quite a bit… His hair’s black as a raven’s wings, with streaks of silver near his temples. They make him seem so much older than he really is… He’s got a beard, as black as his hair and surprisingly soft; he found it ever so funny that I didn’t have one… He’s stubborn and he’s grumpy and he’s rude, but he’s kind and soft and silly and… I love him. I love him so much it hurts._

And the lasses would swoon and the men would grin and Bilbo’s heart would ache for the things that weren’t and could never be. Because it wasn’t enough; not really. It made him feel guilty that he was using Thorin like this; that everyone believed him married to the dwarf. Thorin had shown no signs of harbouring any such feelings towards him and that made it seem all the worse. Bilbo wondered if perhaps it was time to pretend that Thorin had died, or wanted a divorce; while the thought made him feel sick he knew that all too soon Thorin’s absence would become too strange, and folk would wonder why Bilbo never went to him.

But Bilbo never factored in one teeny, tiny thing.

***

_Our dearest Burglar and Hobbit,_

_I had hoped to surprise you but Balin insisted it was only manners that I send word ahead. I feel it has been long enough that Erebor will be safe in the hands of my sister (Mahal save the dwarf who crosses her) and I have left for a while; I write this letter from an inn in Bree. I hope you will not mind my imposing on you too much, dear Burglar, but it was at my sister’s behest that I pay you a visit. And I know that it is no hardship to me to see you once again._

_With good weather, I shall be no longer than three days; I shall arrive a day or so later than this missive. I look forward to seeing you again, Bilbo, and I hope that I can repair what I so foolishly spurned that day upon the mountainside._

_Your Thorin._

As Bilbo read the letter, he felt two things: first, was joy at the thought of seeing Thorin again – the dwarf he loved above all others and who he had once wished to spend the rest of his days beside; secondly, absolute, abject horror that Thorin was coming here, where everyone believed him to be Bilbo’s _husband_.

As Bilbo’s mother had often put it, _fiddlesticks._


	2. ...I Thee Wed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin just doesn't get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS GUYS GUYS I NEED TO SAY SOME THINGS
> 
> Firstly, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! I literally can't believe you all like it so much!!! Which leads me to point number two, which is that I am so very sorry I didn't post it yesterday but I looked over it and it just...wasn't right. I don't like posting things I'm not happy with so I decided to delay posting in order to improve it, and I'm pretty happy with the finished result! And it's _long - much_ longer than the first chapter, so I hope that makes up in part for the delay. I hope you'll enjoy it!!!!
> 
> Seriously guys, thank you so much for all your lovely comments. My heart weeps at how much you seem to like it and that makes me so happy you don't understand.  <3 

Bilbo stood frozen in a state of panic for what felt like hours but could only have been a few minutes, before realising he was stood on his outside porch and hurried inside, slamming the front door in his hurry and rushing to the kitchen where he poured himself a cup of hot, strong tea. He only noticed his hands were shaking when tea sloshed over the side of the cup and onto his waistcoat.

Despite feeling like the world was about to end, Bilbo couldn’t keep the warmth that was spreading through him at the words written on the page - Our _dearest_ Burglar _, it is no hardship to me to see you once again,_ and the one that made his heart flutter: _your_ Thorin. With such lines as that written in Thorin’s own hand, it was almost more than he could bear.

Quickly he scolded himself and set the teacup down, wiping away the tea that had spilt. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. It was fine. Everything was going to be fine. He just had to breathe…

Who was he kidding, everything was as far from fine as it possibly could be! He’d thought he’d have _time_ before he was faced with that confounded, beautiful _idiot_ of a dwarf again - not all of two days! Just thinking of him hurt and to think that he was going to _see_ him again, here in this very smial where he’d first lost his heart without even truly knowing it, made his knees weak and his heart race; once again, Bilbo Baggins thought he might end up on the floor in a fainted muddle.

And it wasn’t like he could pretend that Thorin wasn’t who he was, because every hobbit west of Bree knew of his supposed husband.

His knees truly did wobble a little then, and he let out a little moan. Oh no. _Oh no._

_Every hobbit west of Bree…._ And every hobbit _in_ Bree knew about Bilbo and Thorin! It was surely too much to hope that none of them would notice that the most talked-about dwarf in the Shire was passing through the town. What if someone said something? Oh, this was absolutely terrible! Bilbo wanted to burrow down in his bed and never leave the covers, he was so ashamed and embarrassed. Once again, he cursed his Took lineage for letting him get himself into this mess.

Quickly he straightened. He may be a Took, but he was also a Baggins, and he was going to sort this out. But first he had to speak to his neighbours.

***

Thorin was… _fond_ of the hobbit. Perhaps overly fond, but it was hardly his fault that Bilbo's bright smile made everything dim in comparison. He deeply regretted his actions concerning the Arkenstone and wished he could take back everything he’d said and done, but that was impossible and all he could do was apologise from the very bottom of his heart. Bilbo had seemed to accept, and that was all well and good; but he’d still had a strange _ache_ in his chest as he’d watched Bilbo leave that day. He’d gone for a lie-down to rest it away, but it had done no good.

It only seemed to get worse in the days that followed. Thorin couldn’t understand it – Oin had checked him over multiple times and declared him healthy, but still this ache wouldn’t go away. It constricted his lungs and made it hard to breathe; it always seemed to be worse when he remembered holding his- _the_ hobbit over the mountainside. He would double over in pain as he fought to get air into his body, trying to stop the crashing waves of guilt and a strange emptiness that washed over him.

He just couldn’t understand it.

And then Dís had arrived and veritably kicked him out of his own mountain, demanding he go to the Shire and pay their hobbit a visit. Thorin couldn’t understand why she only pressured _him_ to go and on such short notice, but he’d learnt long ago that it was best to just do as she said unless he fancied an axe embedded in his body somewhere very painful.

He found that the closer they got to the Shire, the ache lessened just a little. Perhaps it was all the fresh air. Thorin missed the little fellow, and had wished on more than one occasion that he’d stayed in the mountain with them. Bilbo had no reason to do so, or even to be civil to Thorin after what he’d done, but Thorin was a greedy dwarf and he would take what Bilbo offered, and gladly too.

Thorin did wonder at the behaviour of his hosts as he travelled: Thranduil's insults came less often and were less barbed than usual; Beorn had seemed _happy_ to see him and Elrond even erred on the _nice_ side of civil. He wondered if there was something wrong with Bilbo, as all three seemed to hint that he should hurry to his hobbit. The hobbit. Their hobbit.

Balin seemed to get more cheerful the closer they came to the Shire, although his piercing looks at Thorin only grew more regular the closer they got to the Shire. But finally, finally, nearing the end of their journey that Thorin couldn’t wait to see the end of, they reached Bree.

***

Perhaps they could have eaten in the private dining room of the inn, but Thorin was feeling more cheerful than usual now they were so close to Bilbo and he wanted to at least watch the merry-making going on around them. So they sat at a table near the fire, supping on fine stew and crusty rolls and meat.

Thorin found his attention drifting a little, travelling further west yet to a homely smial with a green door, when he was suddenly interrupted by a hobbit - a rather rotund little fellow with ruddy cheeks and a red nose; he had smile lines around his mouth and eyes. So had Bilbo, he remembered.

'Excuse me, sir,' the hobbit offered and Thorin forced himself to look as unthreatening as possible. Perhaps this fellow knew Bilbo; it was only polite not to scare the man. 'Are you one Thorin Oakenshield?' Thorin gave a nod and the man's face flooded with relief. 'Oh, I thought so! I'm so glad to see you at last! We've all heard so much about you from Mr Baggins; everyone's looking forward to seeing you! Though no doubt you'll be hurrying to Hobbiton come dawn, aye!' the hobbit seemed to chatter without really caring whether Thorin was following or not. Thorin was flustered, not understanding why Bilbo would tell his people such… _nice_ things about him, when he’d done more than enough to deserve their contempt. 'I'm sure there'll be more'n a few lasses jealous of young Bilbo once you arrive!' the hobbit finished with a wink and turned and disappeared, leaving Thorin completely flabbergasted.

What had that all been about? He was more than a little confused at the hobbit's seemingly joyful reaction upon seeing him. He shrugged it off and finished his stew before retiring up to bed; he felt like a little dwarfling on Durin's Eve, waiting for Father Longbeard to come - the sooner he went to sleep, the sooner it'd be dawn and he could finally reach the hobbit and the end of their journey. Thorin hardly noticed the ache in his chest that night. They set off early the next day after a quick breakfast and slept that night under the stars; they reached Hobbiton by midday.

Thorin's heart was thumping like mad - he'd sent the letter ahead as Balin had told him to, but what if Bilbo didn't want to see him? What if Bilbo hated him? What if Bilbo wanted nothing to do with him? He forced himself to calm down. Even if Bilbo hated him, surely he wouldn't slam the door in his face. Either way Thorin stopped at a stream before they entered the town and washed his hair, hands and face as best he could so that he at least looked respectable. Bilbo had always been a stickler for respectability.

As they approached Bag End, Thorin noticed the many looks his little party was receiving. Surely they didn't make that odd a sight. Then he noticed that none of the looks were _bad_ , per se, but certainly many were knowing and some of the hobbits were downright smirking. He wondered what on earth Bilbo had told them; last time he'd traversed these parts, not one single hobbit had been able to look at him without quivering and diving back to whatever they were doing, steadfastly avoiding his gaze.

Thorin's heart stopped a little when he saw Bag End, the garden just as neat as ever. He walked forward as if in a trance to the front door, hoping against hope that Bilbo was in. Oh, what if he was out, at the market or away or –

A snigger brought him back to the present and he jumped, glancing around. He saw a young hobbit with sandy curls and muddy breeches, gardening gloves up to his elbows and covered in soil. Under his arm was a wide-brimmed hat. 'He's in,' he said, sniggering again and nodding towards the door knowingly. 'I'll just be off, leave you two be.' He touched a hand to his sandy curls falling damply on his forehead and scampered off, calling a 'good mornin'!' to the dwarves gathered behind. He heard Balin return the greeting and the two of them shared a look, although Thorin was certain Balin knew more than he let on behind that shrewd gaze.

Thorin took a deep breath to calm himself – and of course his hands weren’t shaking, that would be entirely ridiculous – and turned back to the neat round green door and knocked. His heart was in his mouth the entire time he waited for that door to swing open, wondering what Bilbo would say, what he’d do when he saw him –

Then finally he heard the muffled patter of feet behind the door and the next moment Thorin was faced with a sight he hadn’t realised he’d missed quite as much as he had: Bilbo Baggins. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his face and the warmth that quite suddenly tingled in his fingers and toes. ‘Bilbo,’ he said quietly.

To his dismay, Bilbo looked quite alarmed and said nothing, staring at him with something Thorin couldn’t place in his eyes.

‘Bilbo?’ he asked, that ache in his chest coming back and his breath coming quicker. ‘I sent a letter – did you not –‘

Bilbo seemed to come to his senses then and shook himself. ‘Thorin,’ he said, and just the sound of his name coming from Bilbo’s lips made him smile. ‘I got your letter. I just…wasn’t expecting you so soon, is all. Please, come in!’ And he ushered Thorin inside, a little hand on Thorin’s elbow as if to guide him making Thorin feel even warmer, in his great furs and cloak as he was, and he was grateful when Bilbo took them away to hang them up. Bilbo called Balin in too; the other dwarves of their guard declined and made their way to the nearest tavern, where Thorin was certain they’d make the most of the Shire’s plentiful supply of ale and pipeweed.

Bilbo rushed around making tea, looking incredibly flustered, while Thorin and Balin settled themselves in the parlour on the hobbit’s instruction. Bilbo was jumpy even when he brought the tea and cakes in – too many cakes for them to eat _all_ now, surely? – and there was an awkward pause while they sipped at the tea before Bilbo cleared his throat.

‘I, uh, I trust your journey was good?’

‘Very much so,’ Thorin replied, watching Bilbo closely. He couldn’t take his eyes from him even if he’d wanted to, the sight of him soothing that ever-present ache in his chest. ‘Very uneventful.’

Bilbo nodded, muttering ‘Good, good,’ and there was another awkward silence before he broke it once again. ‘You weren’t… You found your way here alright?’ he asked hopefully, and Thorin replied in the affirmative. There was something Bilbo was trying to get at but he couldn’t for the life of him work it out.

‘And no one…said anything?’ he asked, shoulders hunching a little. ‘I mean, only because we don’t get very many dwarves in the Shire at all so…’ he trailed off.

‘Why should they say anything?’ Thorin asked mildly and Bilbo glanced down at his tea, avoiding Thorin’s eye. ‘There was one hobbit in Bree who seemed almost pleased to see us, and your gardener too.’ Thorin couldn’t keep the smile from his face as Bilbo frowned and moved to look out of the window, muttering something unintelligible. After a few more minutes of awkward silence Thorin cleared his throat.

‘Bilbo, there is something I must say.’ Bilbo looked up, startled, and Thorin stood. ‘I know I can never truly apologise for my actions that day-‘ he shushed Bilbo with a lok when the hobbit made to interrupt – ‘and I can but hope that you have forgiven me. But I wish you to know, Bilbo, that it pleases me more than words can say to see you whole and well again.’

Bilbo flushed and looked down, his cheeks pink. ‘Thorin,’ was all he said, and the next thing Thorin knew he was beside Bilbo at the window and drew him into a hug. He heard Bilbo give a tiny squeak before he relaxed into Thorin’s embrace, making that wonderful warmth flood through him again and if Thorin hugged him just a little tighter then, well, it was only his business. But all too soon Bilbo was drawing away, laughing a little breathlessly, although there was a tightness to his eyes that made Thorin wary.

‘Really, Thorin, you must give a fellow some warning before you do that! It’s been a while since you…’ He cleared his throat. ‘Would you like some more tea?’

Thorin followed Bilbo with his eyes as he scurried from the room, taking the teapot with him. He looked at Balin, who gave a shrug. There was something up with their hobbit, but what?

***

The day was beautiful, with the bright sunshine pouring down onto the lush green fields and trees of the Shire. Thorin could see why the hobbits were so reluctant to leave their homes – while it may not have the wild rugged beauty of the mountains, the Shire was pretty in a tame, comfortable, ordered way. Like Bilbo.

Speaking of the hobbit, Thorin wondered if he’d like to go out, get some fresh air. Bilbo had been busy rushing around ever since they’d finished tea, so during a momentary lull in Bilbo’s hurrying Thorin stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulder.

‘Bilbo,’ he said, and he must have imagined the tiny peeping noise that sounded as he spoke. Bilbo glanced up at him, then away, and Thorin wondered if perhaps Bilbo truly did not want them there. ‘Would you care to go for a walk?’ While Thorin was not overly fond of flowers, he thought he’d enjoy a walk with Bilbo.

‘No!’ Bilbo protested, looking as stricken as if Thorin had suggested trampling his flower patch. ‘You can’t go outside!’

Thorin frowned. ‘Why ever not?’

Bilbo seemed to hesitate then, fiddling with something on his finger, and Thorin felt a surge of warmth and affection wash over him so suddenly and completely he was almost knocked off his feet. Bilbo was wearing the ring he’d given him.

‘My ring,’ he said softly, and Bilbo followed Thorin’s gaze down to his hand in confusion before his eyes cleared in recognition. ‘You’re wearing the ring I gave you.’

There was something in Bilbo’s eyes as he nodded. ‘Of course. It was your last gift to me.’

Thorin looked at Bilbo closely then, the warmth in his chest not abating one jot. He was utterly sincere when he spoke again. ‘I would have given you so much more, had you stayed.’

Bilbo’s breath caught and Thorin was aghast to see tears begin to form in his eyes as he shook his head. ‘Please don’t say that,’ he said sadly; he started to move away but Thorin caught hold of his sleeve before he could leave.

‘I mean it,’ he insisted. ‘Whatever you wanted, I would have given it to you-‘

Bilbo carefully detached himself from Thorin’s grasp. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying,’ he gave a small smile. ‘I’ve got more than I need, and…enough that I want.’ He moved a step away from Thorin, taking a deep breath. ‘Now, do you prefer raspberry or cherry jam?’

***

Bilbo’s heart was thumping fit to burst for the rest of the afternoon, his breath catching at the intense look in Thorin’s eyes as he’d promised him more, promised him everything. How could Bilbo tell him what he wanted; that what he wanted was what Thorin Oakenshield could never give him?

he spent the rest of the day in the kitchen; it allowed him to talk to the dwarves as he worked but kept him busy so that he couldn’t stare at Thorin like a lovesick lad, nor allow his concentration to wander as he listened to Thorin’s deep bass tones. He did have a lovely voice…

It was only when dusk was beginning to fall that he took Thorin up on his offer of a walk; he hadn’t left the smial all day, too worried to be able to make polite conversation as he knew would be expected of him and at the same time fearful that he’d be out when Thorin arrived. Looking into the dwarf’s eyes for the first time had been just as shaking as he’d expected but at the same time he could hardly feel anything but joy at seeing him whole, healthy and _well_ again, here on his doorstep.

Balin opted to stay behind in Bilbo’s – not inconsiderable, for a hobbit – library, while Bilbo was left to show Thorin around the town. He couldn’t help the way his heart hammered as if trying to escape his very chest as they descended the front steps of Bag End, Thorin’s warmth beside him a comforting presence.

His hopes of going at least a little more unnoticed by waiting until evening were dashed upon the grassy paths, however, as it seemed his neighbours were _all_ taking their evening strolls. They didn’t walk one path without passing one couple or another, and much to Bilbo’s chagrin, every single one lived up to the gossiping reputation of their race.

‘Busy tonight, eh, Mister Bilbo?’ one old gaffer called cheerily as he passed and Bilbo was grateful for the low light, so that Thorin couldn’t see the bright red of his cheeks.

‘Lock yer windows tonight; there’s a storm brewing,’ another chuckled as they passed and Bilbo had to resist the urge to drop his head right into his hands and hide under the hedgerows. Thank Yanvanna that Thorin didn’t seem to notice anything strange.

All things considered, it was a pleasant walk (more than pleasant, if Bilbo was honest; he hadn’t had such pleasant walk since he’d left his dwarves behind in their mountain) and Thorin was everything Bilbo loved about him – sweet and kind and genuinely interested in what Bilbo had to say about the flowers that lined the paths. He even took Bilbo’s elbow as they walked up the hill – which was rather unnecessary as Bilbo hardly needed the help, but he wasn’t complaining despite the sharp shocks curling in his belly at the contact.

The walk back was quiet and Thorin was merely a dark shadow beside him; a warm presence beside him that made him feel safe. Sometimes it alarmed him how much he felt for this dwarf, but then Thorin would give him a small smile, his eyes would crinkle and Bilbo wouldn’t doubt his feelings at all. If only they were returned; his heart wasn’t made for this constant mixture of pain and joy at the one he loved being so close and yet so unreachable.

Before they retired for bed, Thorin had thanked him for housing himself and Balin, his eyes searching Bilbo’s and Bilbo had had to make a conscious effort not to fiddle with the ring on his finger - it hurt more than he could say to know that Thorin saw it as no more than a token of their friendship, not the love it meant to Bilbo.

He turned to make his own way to bed when Thorin called out to him again. ‘Bilbo-‘

Bilbo turned and the sight of Thorin illuminated in the oil lamp of the corridor, his skin warm and the silver in his hair turned gold, made his heart ache.

‘Goodnight, Bilbo,’ Thorin said, so quietly Bilbo almost missed it.

‘Goodnight, Thorin,’ he smiled, before hurrying to his own room and shutting the door quietly. The single tear that escaped was wiped away on his sleeve and forgotten about before he could dwell on it too much. It was an agonising balm to his poor heart that he could hear Thorin’s low voice humming in the room next door, lulling him to sleep just as it had all that time before.

***

The next day Thorin insisted on going to the market. They rose late, once the sun was high in the sky, and all three of them made their way to the town square where all the stalls were set up, Bilbo leading the way. If Thorin admired how the sun turned Bilbo’s bronze hair almost gold, then it was only his business. He kept close to Bilbo, who was looking particularly lovely in his new smart jacket, a deep wine colour that suited him perfectly.

It was all so cheerful here and Thorin felt his lips curve up into a smile as he stepped a little closer to Bilbo. Balin spotted an old book stall and with a contented sigh slipped over to go and rifle around through the tomes. Thorin stayed close to Bilbo, who was collecting some necessary groceries as well as other purchases.

He noticed the two of them were getting some funny looks and he put a gentle hand to Bilbo’s shoulder, keeping him close; Bilbo glanced at him momentarily and relaxed into the touch, which made Thorin smile even wider. Then he heard it – from somewhere in the crowd of hobbits milling around and greeting each other and laughing together, someone whistled. Wolf-whistled. Of course, it could have been at anyone, but Bilbo was by far the nicest looking hobbit there (not that Thorin was biased, at all) and he pulled Bilbo even closer.

‘Thorin, what are you doing?’ Bilbo asked as Thorin’s warm hand closed over his shoulder.

‘You’re my companion, and I will not suffer slights upon you.’ He was positively scowling and Bilbo felt his stomach churn a little at the sight.

‘Thorin, it’s alright. No one has slighted me!’ he said urgently, aware of the looks he was receiving from the other hobbits. He had to behave as if everything was perfect, and Thorin walking around with a black scowl on his face was not going to help. ‘Now, come and help me get the bread.’

Throin had never imagined he’d enjoy such domestic chores so much, but he’d found that a lot over the last stages if their journey and increasingly recently – he didn’t mind a lot of things so long as Bilbo Baggins was around. Even looking at curtain drapes was more excititng for the presence of the little hobbit beside him.

‘What do you think of these, Mr. Durin?’ a voice broke into his thoughts and he opened his mouth to respond – it wasn’t technically the correct way to address him – but Bilbo interrupted him.

‘They’re lovely, aren’t they, Thorin?’ he said quickly, looking at Thorin expectantly. Thorin nodded, realising Bilbo evidently didn’t want him to kick up a fuss about _titles,_ here of all places where they were of very little import. The lady managing the stall was smirking as she handed Bilbo the package, and Thorin was perturbed when he saw the label read _Durin,_ not Baggins. _He_ wasn’t interested in buying curtains…

He _did_ find it increasingly strange how more and more hobbits took to referring to him as _Mr. Durin_ , and that Bilbo would often answer for him. The last thing he wanted was to show up his hobbit in front of his people.

‘Why do they call me Durin, not Oakenshield?’ he asked Bilbo quietly as they made their way to the book stall where Balin was still haggling enthusiastically with the stall keeper.

‘They, um,’ was Bilbo’s reply, before he was interrupted by yet another hobbit neighbour.

***

They eventually made it home as afternoon was turning to evening and the rolling green hills were turned golden in the sun. Bilbo ushered the two dwarves inside ahead of him as he stopped to check the post-box, where he noticed a thick parchment letter sitting.

He’d just picked it up when he heard a voice from behind him. ‘Oh, Mister Bilbo! I’d hoped to catch you!’

He turned to find Goody Pearson hurrying up the hill after him carrying somrhting in her hands. 'Good evening, Mrs. Pearson,’ he greeted her, tucking the envelope safely in his pocket.

‘I'm sure it is, Mister Bilbo,’ she grinned as she approached and Bilbo just nodded while trying to stifle the hot rush of embarrassment. He should be used to it, the number of remarks made every day and which had only increased in regularity and intensity now Thorin was _actually here._

Mrs. Pearson was holding something out to him and he accepted it, looking at it in interest. ‘What’s this?’ he asked, lifting the cloth lid.

‘Thought you might not be feeling up to cooking much for a while,’ she chuckled. ‘Don’t let me be keepin’ you now, sir! Enjoy your evening,’ she flashed a grin again and turned and hurried back down the path, leaving Bilbo standing on his porch steps with a tub full of food. He was sure his ears must be crimson by now, he was so embarrassed.

‘Bilbo?’ he span around at the sound of Thorin’s voice. The dwarf was poking his head around the green front door. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, yes,’ Bilbo assured him. ‘I won’t be a moment!’ Thorin retreated back inside and Bilbo let out a deep breath which was surprisingly calm, all things considered. Covering the tub with the cloth once more he made his way inside and shut the door behind him, heading to the kitchen and putting the food away carefully in the cool pantry. It wouldn’t do to let it all go to waste.

Balin and Thorin were in the sitting room, Balin poring over the books he’d purchased and Thorin puffing on his pipe and looking out across the fields. Bilbo took the seat next to Thorin as he opened the letter, determinedly not noticing Thorin watching him. If he dwelt on that, his hands would start to shake and then Thorin would think he was sad and then where would they be? Bilbo could hardly tell him the truth.

He scanned the letter quickly, then again, and couldn’t stop the little groan that escaped him as he re-read the words a third time.

‘What is it?’ Thorin was immediately alert, voice tight with worry and Bilbo waved his concern away.

‘It’s nothing. only my family are coming for a visit and…they want to meet you.’

Thorin looked surprised at that but he smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling in a way that made Bilbo’s heart want to explode. ‘I would like to meet them, too,’ he said seriously.

Bilbo only just managed to refrain from putting his head in his hands and confessing the whole damn thing to Thorin right then. The Tooks were coming for afternoon tea, intent on meeting Bilbo’s dwarf husband who had no idea he _was_ his husband. Just perfect. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

***

Bilbo was visibly distressed by the news of his family coming to visit, and while Thorin couldn't understand it he did his best to reassure him. Balin said nothing, merely peered thoughtfully over the gold rims of his reading spectacles at the two of them before returning to his book, a small smile on his face.

Thorin told Bilbo all about the refurbishments they'd made to Erebor so far in an attempt to take his mind off looming familial visits and it seemed to do the trick; as they sat in armchairs facing each other, Thorin even managed to make Bilbo laugh with his anecdotes of his nephews' antics. It was calm and homely and nice, and Thorin cherished every moment of this uncomplicated existence.

When he went to bed that night, it occurred to him that he hadn't felt that tight pain in his chest for a while now. Not since the front door of Bag End had opened and revealed their own little burglar, just the same as he ever was. Funny that Bilbo could make him forget the ache of this strange wound.

They passed the next day in a flurry of domesticity about Bilbo's home, making it presentable for respectable hobbits like the Tooks. Bilbo spent time in the garden, sorting out his flowers and checking on his vegetables while Thorin watched, fascinated. It wasn't his fault that the sun made Bilbo's cheeks turn pink and his hair gold, so that Thorin often lost himself in it.

Balin helped out too, arranging little vases of flowers and such. Thorin wasn't much use, his eye for colour and arrangement abysmal at best, so Bilbo allowed him to help in the kitchen. Thorin had never enjoyed himself more than listening to Bilbo hum as he worked, creating delectable treats in front of Thorin's eyes. At times like that, Thorin not only felt no pain in his chest but instead felt _whole_ again, like something he'd been missing had suddenly been returned to him. He wondered if all hobbits had the same healing powers Bilbo did, or if it was just something he was born with.

And when evening drew in and the three of them sat around their pipes, smoke rings drifting lazily around the room, Thorin was glad his sister had sent him on this visit. She knew what he'd needed more than he did himself - good clean fresh air, that was key.

They went to bed early, Bilbo growing more and more restless as the evening wore on and he finally excused himself. From his room next to Bilbo, Thorin thought he heard something hit the wall as if thrown in frustration. He frowned. He felt bad for causing Bilbo this level of stress, so he stood and left the room, knocking on Bilbo's door.

'Bilbo?'

'Bilbo, I need to say something.' He'd say it through the door if he had to, but he'd prefer to say it to Bilbo's face. The door did open then, revealing Bilbo with flushed cheeks and mussed curls, and Thorin quite forgot what he was saying. He shook himself then, pulling himself together.

'Bilbo, I just wanted to tell you that... I may not be the most socially adept dwarf, but I will try to be for your family,' he said earnestly. He hadn't expected Bilbo's face to crumple and the sight made him panic. Bilbo just sniffled a little and Thorin didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing he could think of.

He pressed his forehead to Bilbo's. It was a gesture that had soothed upset sister-sons in the years when they were but dwarflings; that had eased the pain of a sister's broken heart; that had said goodbye to a dying brother. It was close and intimate, and yet seemed the perfectly right thing to do. The ring he'd given him had proclaimed him as one of Durin's kin, after all.

Bilbo had fallen promptly silent at the contact and Thorin stepped back quickly once he realised, the strange tightness in his chest turning painful as he did so.

'I'm sorry, Bilbo, I shouldn't-'

'No, it's alright, Thorin,' Bilbo said, though his voice seemed strangely brittle. 'You mustn't apologise.'

Thorin felt warm again. 'After I did you so much wrong, you would still treat me so kindly.'

Bilbo flushed and looked at his hands. ' You weren't yourself then, Thorin,' he said quietly. 'There's nothing to forgive you for, not really.' Bilbo gave a small, uncertain smile. 'And I'd count you as one of my own, if you'd let me.'

Thorin smiled through the strange fullness in his chest. 'Nothing would make me happier, my... Bilbo.'

Bilbo leant back against the door when he was gone, heart thumping wildly - it wasn't going to last if Thorin carried on like this, surely giving up if the dwarf continued to be his grumpy lovable self.

_My... Bilbo._

_My Bilbo._

_Your Thorin._

If Bilbo pretended as he fell asleep that Thorin truly meant what he wished he did, then no one else need know. Least of all the dwarf concerned.

Either way, the next day was going to be pure hell. Bilbo just hoped Thorin wouldn't hate him by the end of it.

***

Bilbo tried to keep calm the next morning, knowing his jumpiness made Thorin, for some strange reason, melancholy as if he thought it was his fault. The least he could do was spare the poor dwarf, an unwitting player in his farce of a love story, any mental anguish that he could.

But it was so _hard,_ when Thorin was so kind and Balin only twinkled at him and Bilbo was fully aware that with each passing minute, a horde of nosy Took relatives were getting closer and closer. He forced himself to drink his tea, knowing he'd need every ounce of strength he possessed to divert awkward questions and keep Thorin from getting suspicious. It was going to be tough, if it was even possible at all. Bilbo would almost rather face the dragon again; at least that way he'd be dead and wouldn't have to face the embarrassment of owning up to lying about Thorin being his _husband_ if everything went pear-shaped. The thought was mortifying.

He fiddled with the ring on his finger, its deep blue matching the indigo of Thorin's fur lined tunic. It was strange to see the dwarf out of his multiple layers of cloaks and coats, and made all the worse that his tunic allowed Bilbo an entirely too good view of the dwarf's muscles rippling under the fine cotton; his solid torso...

Bilbo forced himself to look away and busy himself in the pantry, to keep his hands and - most importantly - mind busy. It wouldn't do to allow his thoughts of Thorin to make things awkward between them, not when he had family coming.

At just after midday the unmistakable sound of a pony trap coming along the main path could be heard; sure enough not a minute later it pulled up outside the front gate of Bag End and various Took aunts, uncles and a couple of cousins started to descend. If Bilbo's face went white at the sight of them, Thorin's went grey.

'This is just one branch of your family?' he asked quietly.

'And not even half of them,' Bilbo returned as they watched from the parlour window.

'I don't even have this many relatives in total,' Thorin replied faintly and Bilbo only had time to give him a quick pat on the arm before the doorbell rang and he moved to answer it.

Before he did so, he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He could _do_ this; he'd outwitted a dragon, so surely a few family members would be child's play. Putting on a smile he pulled the door open and greeted his relatives.

His aunt Mirabella was the first inside, practically hopping on one foot in her excitement to meet Thorin. As Bilbo gave her the requisite hug, she giggled and whispered into his ear. 'I expect you haven't left the smial much, then?'

Great-aunt Dora came next, tottering in and waving her stick around in excitement. 'You're positively _blooming,_ child!'

Uncle Isengrim could only give him a lewd wink which Bilbo understood all too well this time as he came inside; the little group of younger cousins were twittering and giggling like a flock of songbirds as they entered, all of them sighing one thing. 'Is he _very_ handsome, Uncle Bilbo?'

His cheeks were flaming by the time they were all inside and had hung up their light summer cloaks. As he led them to the parlour, all of them expectantly quiet, he gave a last-ditch attempt at trying to smother what he knew would be a rambunctious, loud and overwhelmingly enthusiastic greeting. 'Thorin's quite shy,' he told them and a few of the girls cooed. 'He's not especially comfortable with...people, and...just be nice? Please?' he finished lamely.

Great-aunt Dora merely tapped her stick impatiently. 'Yes, yes, now where is he? I want to see the lad who's got my boy so smitten!'

Bilbo wanted to crawl away and hide, but he forced himself not to and instead looked each family member in the eye before they turned the corner and entered the parlour. 'Remember,' he whispered, _'shy.'_

Holding his breath he led them the rest of the way and into the parlour where the two dwarves were waiting.

'Everyone, meet Balin, and... Thorin.'

There was utter silence in the room as the hobbits took in the two dwarves in front of them.

Then Uncle Isengrim cleared his throat. 'Well, young man, I suppose we ought to welcome you to the family.'

Bilbo winced internally - although, if he was perfectly honest, it could have been so much worse - but Thorin didn't seem perturbed. Instead he only smiled and glanced at Bilbo as he replied.

'Thank you. I couldn't be happier about it.' He sounded so sincere and it made Bilbo want to cover his face with his hands. Because Thorin thought only that Bilbo thought of him as family, as one of them, while the hobbits thought of their romantic attachment... Oh, he'd got himself in a pickle and no mistake about it.

'Yes. Well.' Isengrim cleared his throat and looked at Bilbo, who thought in horror that his uncle was going to _cry._

But before he could do so Bilbo interrupted with an offer of tea, and got everyone sorted into chairs before making his escape to the kitchen and sorting the tea and cakes. _Plenty_ of cakes; perhaps he could distract his family from awkward questions with the provision of lots of food.

If Bilbo was honest, he'd expected Thorin to be quiet and not particularly forthcoming with answers and conversation; he'd even expected grumpiness. But he hadn't expected Thorin to be so... _cheerful._ As Bilbo walked back to the parlour with his hands full, carrying a tray laden with cake and tea, he heard Thorin's booming laughter sounding through the smial. The sound was so carefree, so domestic and so much what Bilbo wanted that he had to stop for a moment to calm his breathing and his hands, both of which decided at that moment to disobey him and start trembling.

He forced himself to breathe again before stepping inside the parlour, and Thorin looked up at him with such an open smile that Bilbo's heart stuttered painfully in his chest and he found himself almost unable to return it. Thorin looked so comfortable here in his parlour, he looked as if he belonged, and it broke Bilbo's heart to think that soon he'd be alone again, sitting on his own looking out at his fields and wishing the window faced east, so that he could at least console himself that somewhere beyond they grey horizon, the dwarf he loved was sitting in his mountain.

He was pulled from his melancholy by Great-aunt Dora banging her stick on the floor in the grouchy way of old gammers.

'Well now, tell us how you met!'

Bilbo had to laugh at that - their first meeting had been so inauspicious that he would happily have slammed the door in the dwarf's face before even considering going anywhere with him, but it made for a good tale, especially as Balin interjected with his dry wit. Beside him Thorin was so friendly that he could almost fool himself into believing it was all true, that Thorin truly _was_ his and this was just a friendly meeting with the in-laws and everything was perfect. But it wasn't, as he was forcefully reminded a moment later.

There was a lull as everyone ate their cake and sipped at their tea, and Thorin leant in closer to Bilbo to ask him something. 'Do your relatives wish to know everything about every friend you have?' he chuckled low and Bilbo blushed. He ignored his aunt's happy sigh and cousin's giggles at that.

'They're just very interested in dwarves,' was his reply, lame as it was, but Thorin just hummed in agreement and returned to his tea. Bilbo knew he preferred ale but it warmed his heart to see Thorin sipping neatly at the little tea cup, almost too small in his huge hands.

If only things could stay like that, Bilbo wished. It was all so nice, and so far nothing too bad had happened. He fervently hoped things could last at least just a little longer before they went to pot.

***

Thorin hadn't felt this warm and comfortable since the days back in the Blue Mountains, before quests and gold lust had happened. They'd been poor, but they'd been happy; ever increasingly in the days before his sister had forced him on this visit he'd found himself unsatisfied, like he was missing something important.

But here in the chair next to Bilbo, he felt almost like he'd found it, whatever it was.

He wasn't overly fond of the funny tea Bilbo kept serving but he _was_ however very fond of the smile it put on Bilbo's face when he drank it, so he persevered. It was a very pleasing smile, after all. When they'd all finished, Bilbo's uncle stood and stretched.

'Thorin, lad, could I speak with ye for a moment?' he asked, looking directly at Thorin. Surprised, he nodded - he did find it surprising how at ease the hobbits seemed, and nobody called him 'lad' except for Balin - but Bilbo let out a little squeak and made as if to stop him.

'Uncle, really! It's fine!' he said, almost desperately, but the old hobbit looked determined and Thorin couldn't understand why he shouldn't. Gently he disentangled his tunic from Bilbo's grasp,perhaps holding his hand for just a moment longer than he needed to but he wanted to reassure Bilbo. There was absolutely nothing for him to worry about.

'I'll be nice, don't worry,' he said quietly so only Bilbo could hear and his hobbit gave a little smile. He found a lot easier to be nice these days.

Isengrim led him out to the corridor and started walking, and Thorin fell in beside him. There was silence for a moment while the old hobbit gathered his thoughts before he cleared his throat and spoke.

'Now, I know this all comes a bit late, all of it, but Bilbo's a good lad.' Isengrim looked at him sharply and Thorin found himself on the receiving end of a very intimidating glare, which was quite something considering he was a good foot and a half taller than the old hobbit. 'He's a good lad and I don't want him hurt, you hear me?' Thorin was more than a little confused now, but he kept his gaze suitably concentrated, although he thought he was frowning now. Isengrim poked a finger to his chest then, surprising him with the boldness of the gesture. 'Listen good and proper now, Mr. Durin, you may be married now but I'll hunt you down myself if you hurt my nephew. That boy loves you to absolute pieces and if you can't do right by him, I'll cut your beard off myself.'

Thorin stood stock still, a rushing in his ears. Disbelief and shock washed over him in waves, turning his blood cold, and he couldn't work out which news shocked him more - the fact that Bilbo loved him or that they were supposedly married. Married! He barely even noticed that last threat, because if what Isengrim was saying was true - _Bilbo loved him_. He hardly knew what to think.

'D'you understand, Thorin Oakenshield?'

'I... Yes, I understand.'

Because he did. Suddenly, everything made _sense -_ Bilbo's behaviour, the comments everyone had been making, all the little things he'd thought had just be quirks of the hobbit race had been because Bilbo... Because they thought... But what was most alarming yet glorious and absolutely beautiful was that suddenly he understood the ache in his chest. It wasn't a _wound,_ or some lasting injury other than that oldest and most fickle hurt - the strike of love.

Mahal, all this time he'd been looking for something and all this time it had been right there in front of him. That was why he felt so at peace with Bilbo, why the hobbit alone was able to make him forget his hurt - because with Bilbo, there were no hurts to forget. Bilbo completed him, made him whole and all this time he'd had no idea that what he wanted - _needed -_ was with him all along.

He wanted to laugh but instead kept his footsteps even as he followed Isengrim back to the parlour where he knew Bilbo was, waiting for him, and in that moment all the Banes of Durin couldn't have kept him from getting to Bilbo. When his hobbit did turn around and smile tentatively at him, he couldn't breathe for a moment, he was so happy and shocked and all manner of emotions swirling around inside him which he couldn't even put names too.

Bilbo started frowning then, looking confused and Thorin realised he was staring at him open mouthed, like a blind man seeing the world for the first time. He supposed he was, really.

'Bilbo,' he said, trying not to choke up on his words. 'Bilbo, there's something I haven't told you.' The entire room fell quiet about them as all the hobbits sucked in a collective breath. Thorin could feel Balin's pointed gaze on him, willing him not to show himself up. 'I should have told you long ago, but I could not.' Bilbo looked worried now and Thorin crossed the room in three strides until he was right in front of him.

'What is it, Thorin?' Bilbo asked warily, and Thorin could see the quick rise and fall of his chest.

Taking a deep breath, Thorin reached for Bilbo's hands and he heard his hobbit's breath catch at that. He leant slightly closer, not taking his eyes from Bilbo's for a second. 'I should have told you... I want a hobbit wedding.'

Thorin had only a moment to see the look on Bilbo's face before he kissed him. It was hesitant at first, Thorin unsure and Bilbo seemed to have frozen in shock; but suddenly his arm tightened around Thorin and the dwarf returned it in kind, holding Bilbo as close as he possibly could and Bilbo was kissing him back, desperately and joyfully and hungrily and Thorin couldn't believe how blind he'd been. All the time they'd been apart and then that Thorin had been here but unaware was time they'd lost and he desperately tried to apologise without words, instead pouring it all into the kiss, his hands moving as if to make sure that Bilbo was truly real, truly here-

A cough interrupted them and Bilbo jumped away as if he'd been burnt, his cheeks flushed and lips red from the kiss in a way which made Thorin burn with a sudden fierce possessiveness, a desire to keep him safe and his for the rest of his days. Bilbo only blushed brighter when he glanced up to see Thorin looking down at him like that.

The rest of the hobbits were looking a little shell-shocked, except for Bilbo's Great-aunt Dora who seemed to be chuckling with glee . Even Balin didn't seem all that surprised.

'We can manage a wedding, don't you think, my dears?' Dora asked Mirabella and the other girls, who all nodded and cooed and giggled. 'Our Shire celebration will put you dwarves' to shame! ' she called and turned to Mirabella and started discussing plans, while Isengrim cleared his throat.

'I mean what I said,' he said gruffly, before sitting down and sniffling a little.

Thorin looked again at Bilbo and felt his heart swell nearly fit to burst. They'd be having words about their supposed marriage, but later. Much later, once everyone was gone and Thorin had had time to kiss his little hobbit properly. _Then_ they could talk.

***

'Fancy I might take meself to that pub o' yours,' Balin said as they waved goodbye to the other hobbits making their way back home. 'Get a pint, a nice meal...maybe a bed.'

'Why would you stay at the Green Dragon?' Bilbo asked in confusion. 'You've got a bed here.'

Balin looked at him and Bilbo suddenly realised what he was referring to and blushed to the tips of his ears before burying his face in Thorin's chest.

'You don't seem surprised,' Thorin said, chuckling into Bilbo's curls. Balin said nothing and Thorin looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

'I...may have heard something about our very own Bilbo leaving the Shire as Mr. Baggins and coming back as Mr. Durin from the book seller, ' he said mildly and Bilbo let out a little groan, muffled in Thorin's tunic. But Thorin only laughed and kissed the top of his mop of curls.

'I adore you,' he said quietly and he felt rather than heard Bilbo's contented hum. Balin smiled softly and left them to it, making his way to the homely little inn in the centre of town while Thorin swept Bilbo up into his arms and carried him inside.

Dusk fell and turned to darkness, but a lamp burned brightly in Bag End until late into the night, and for the two occupants of that once rather lonely smial, everything was perfect. The only ache Thorin knew was his heart feeling too big for his chest and Bilbo could hardly believe that the thing he'd been dreaming of ever since he'd left the Lonely Mountain behind was right herein front of him, his dream finally come true and the ring on his finger finally meaning what he wished it did.

 

**Finis**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU LIKED IT GUYS! Thank you so much for all your support and lovely lovely, comments. <3 <3
> 
> (Also, Heyerette - I hope your last day was good and you can count this as a congratulations present for surviving it!!!)

**Author's Note:**

> This will be two chapters and I expect the next part will be up tomorrow. ^_^


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